Before the Consulting Detective
by SupernaturalHPfreak
Summary: What would have happened if Sherlock went to Hogwarts when he was 11, as a pureblood wizard? Who will his friends become, who will be his enemy? Read the story to find out... Set in Marauder Unisverse Pairings: LE/SH, JP/LE I have already written a story like this only now its slightly different to those who have read my first version...
1. Chapter 1

**Ok, so I'm back, those of you who have read this story already... it's not worth it. I'm just changing slightly what happens.**

**ENJOY!**

**(...oh and... no SLASH!)  
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**Before the Consulting Detective**

Chapter 1

The Wizard Detective

I never wanted this, I mean the brain I have, and I should mention I am a sociopath. I am bored almost all the time and I consider suicide all the time. I am too intelligent for my own good.  
I was 11 when my father died, killed by Voldermort himself. Anyway, I'm coming to Hogwarts this year... I might have forgotten to mention... I am Sherlock Holmes.  
¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨

Sherlock lay in his room at Holmes manor. His father had recently died and he was empty. His mother was sick with an unexplainable sickness no doctor or medi-wizard could place. She was only dying a slow painful death. Sherlock knew his brother and the doctors were trying to hide it from him but Sherlock had seen the syringes, medicine and professional equipment brought up to her room. In the trash, there were always napkins and such soaked in blood, which Sherlock's mother coughed up.

Mycroft though tried to help, not Sherlock of course (they hated each other with passion) but their mother. He was still at school, that year would be his last but Mycroft had a summer job at the ministry. All the money he earned (which was a lot) came to his family. People respected the Holmes family, as Holmes (Sherlock's father) had been the minister of magic, until he died. Mycroft had gotten an easy, comfortable job at the Ministry.

Sherlock had always been a light, happy person; those who had known him had liked him. He had been an intelligent, full of life, young lord.. The now Sherlock was a sulky, thin, rude (sometimes), arrogant, ignorant young lord which had seen enough bad things for a lifetime. This was not normal for an 11-year-old boy.

Sherlock, well, he hadn't noticed these changes in his character as much as everyone else, he didn't care, for him all feelings were now all the same-emptiness.  
As he lay, Sherlock thought about the dark and light sides. For the first time in his life, Sherlock realized he was not on the light side, yet he was not dark, he was a mixture-gray.  
At that moment, he heard his house-elves voce coming from the other side of the door and darkly said, "Enter". A house-elf came in with a preoccupied expression.

"Dinner is ready, master Sherlock," Sherlock shrugged and motioned to the hallway.

"Bring it up will you, Doodle?" The house-elf nodded once, opened his mouth to say something then closed it as he saw Sherlock drift into his thoughts once again, then exited the room.

Sherlock walked aimlessly through the nearest town to Holmes manor. It was the second village (of only two) which was wizarding only. His cloak was wrapped tightly around him, shielding Sherlock from the wind. _This summer has been cold, _thought Sherlock, _or perhaps I don't see the warmth anymore. _  
As usual, there was nobody on the streets, on a day like that most people preferred to stay indoors. As the wind got stronger and colder, Sherlock ducked into a nearby shop. The moment he was inside, he felt the sudden air of ancientness. It was full of magical items: there were old brooms leaning on self-opening cupboards, toys that spoke and coins that multiplied and much, much more. Sherlock made his way to one of the many bookcases. The books, which lay almost forgotten, on those bookcases, looked old and nasty, as if there were gruesome secrets enclosed in them.

Sherlock flickered through some books, they were all either on the dark or light side. None gray. Sherlock liked gray, biology was on the gray side, a practice that was neither dark nor light.  
The dark would say it was not evil enough and the light would say it was evil to dissect an eye. For the same reasons Sherlock liked Chemistry and Physics. They were the laws of nature. Magic had nothing to do with it.

Once again, Sherlock's eyes flickered throughout the room. His eyes landed on a dusty, messy cupboard. On top of it lay a case. Funnily, curved and black mixed with a blood red. After stacking two stools on top of each other and climbing on the top, he pulled the case off the cupboard and placed it on the table in the corner. He gazed at it for some moments. Then after a small debate on whether to open it or not, he blew the dust off. Sherlock squinted and coughed as it flew up, after it somewhat cleared he threw the latches open.  
Inside was the most beautiful thing he`d ever seen

A violin.

It had a mixture of brown, red and some type of brick orange. The curves were beautiful. Slowly Sherlock took the bow and pressed the violin to his chin, the bow ran over the strings as he'd seen the violin players did at their parties at home. A beautiful tone floated through the air, enveloping the whole shop with a warm glow. It was as if the violin had only just been strung, the strings were strung tight and so was the bow.

"She hasn't been used for years," Sherlock jumped and turned to see a fragile old man with tears in his eyes, "my wife`s fiddle," he explained as a tear rolled down his cheek. Sherlock nodded once and slowly lowered the violin into the case.

"It`s beautiful, the violin," the man bowed his head in agreement.

"That it is."

"Sure enough, Mr Solace," Sherlock muttered glancing at his nametag. The man chuckled as his tears dried.

"Nah, that was my father, I`m Jacob," Sherlock extended a hand.

"Sherlock Holmes," the man's eyes widened as he shook Sherlock's hand.

"It`s an honour. I am very sorry for what happened to your father," Sherlock nodded, accepting his sympathy.

"You know how to play it don`t you?" Sherlock said gesturing to the violin case. Jacob hesitated.

"No."

"Don`t lie to me, your hand tells me you played the violin, and for many years. You played in an orchestra," Jacobs eyes widened once more, "And that was a lie as well, you don`t have a wife, you never had one. You used to play in the theatre but in the orchestra as well, I just don't really understand why you lied to me...ah, you were in the secret service as well," Jacob shook his head in wonder.

"How did you ever know that?"

"Practice," Sherlock muttered darkly, "Oh and I was meaning to ask, would you teach me?" Jacob frowned in a long silence.

"Why?" He demanded. Sherlock shrugged.

"Violin music always has let me think well, I could always concentrate with violin music," Sherlock muttered as Jacob stood in silence regarding the young boy.

"If you want to become a professional, well, you can`t, you should have come to me at the age of six."

"Just teach me what you can."

"What do _I _get out of it?" He asked eyes a little shinier than before.

"Let's say... fifty galleons every class?" The man's mouth dropped.

"Sorry?"

"You heard me," A long silence followed.

"Master Holmes, you are a very remarkable person," Sherlock smiled tightly.

"Thank you, now would you teach me, if I bought this violin?" The man threw his hands up in frustration.

"All right! All right, all right, all right! Just stop! Meet me here on Monday next week at ten o'clock sharp! The violin is free! Now get out!" Sherlock grinned as he slammed the lid shut and practically run out of the shop almost jumping with joy, for the first time in months.  
The wind had died down a little and Sherlock was able to walk to Holmes manor. He walked through the main doors nodding thanks to the butler who opened them and went to the sitting room. It was the same as usual, the fire blazing with life, the two armchairs facing it, a tea-table between them, the two maids by the doors, the two sofas and the other tea-table. Sherlock slumped down on one of the armchairs and picked up the newspaper lying on the table.

"Could you bring me some tea, Elisa?" From the other side of the room, Elisa, the maid nodded and shuffled out of the room. Usually Sherlock would issue this command to a house-elf but he found Elisa's tea always much tastier.

Sherlock's pale gray eyes scanned the papers looking at the different news. Another house had been blown up with the dark mark placed upon the rubble, some new cult had appeared and more boring news. The maid appeared with a silver tray which she placed on the table.

"Anything else, master Sherlock?" Sherlock shook his head his eyes fixed on the paper. The maid scurried off. Ever since Siger Holmes' death, Sherlock had become very withdrawn and rude to the servants around the house to which before he had been nice to. Every servant had noticed the change and as they were lower class and had not wanted to insult the youngest Holmes they had not approached him anymore.  
The doors opened and a rather tall figure with a slight pig nose and pointy ears came in.

"Sherlock."

"Mycroft." There was a sort of tension in the air, which told the servants not to approach the two under any circumstances.

Sherlock frowned eyes not leaving the paper.

"Are you not going to pack?" Sherlock finally raised his eyes to his brother.

"For what?"

"You are going to London for the remaining part of the holidays." Sherlock raised an eyebrow.

"Since when?"

"Since this morning, mother is violently sick, you cannot be taken care of here," Sherlock frowned.

"Where are you going?"

"I shall go to Farnham for two weeks with our uncle then returning to London for the remainder of the holidays," Sherlock frowned.

"Why can I not stay here?" There was a tone in his voice which suggested he wasn`t going anywhere soon without answers.

"You are too young."

"Ah so mother is dead." The two servants hiding in the shadows took sharp intakes of breath. Mycroft hesitated and that was enough for Sherlock.

"I was going to break it to you in London, before the funeral." Sherlock shook his head in wonder.

"You _are _a sly Slytherin. Do you really think you could trick me like that?" Sherlock laughed grimly while Mycroft frowned, he did not like it when one would insult (or try) his house at Hogwarts."No, I am staying here until the funeral," Said Sherlock. For the first time Mycroft surveyed his brother after three months of not seeing him. What he saw was a Gryffindor or perhaps a Raven claw and he did not like it one bit.

"You leave tomorrow at nine o`clock, be at the gates a little earlier," Sherlock's eyes narrowed as Mycroft turned on his heel and left the room. Sherlock sank back in his armchair. _That is not the way brothers should talk to each other_, he thought, _they should support each other instead._

Three hours later Sherlock sat at his desk in his quarters mourning the death of his mother. He knew now from studying the wizard law his guardian was Sherrinfold Holmes, his uncle as Mycroft was not yet of age.  
Since now both of his parents were dead their will had to be revealed and Sherlock knew Mycroft was desperate to get the manor.

Slowly Sherlock picked up the quill lying on his desk and wrote a quick letter, which read as follows:

_Dear Mr. Solace,_

_I very much regret the fact that I cannot come to you on Monday morning as I am leaving to a funeral. We shall continue our lessons in about a year, next summer, when I return from Hogwarts.  
Thank you very much,  
Sherlock Holmes_

With his seal ring, he pressed it against the hot wax on the envelope and held it down for a few moments. Muttering the name of his house-elf, it appeared and he gave the letter to him leaving muttered instructions to give it to the old man.

Then with that done Sherlock fell back into his dull mourning thoughts.

The next day was dull in a way. There was damp fog hanging in the air as if it wanted to add some sadness to the death of Helena Holmes. Nevertheless, Sherlock did not register the sadness; he registered the scientific facts as always. To him the damp air was a sign it was going to rain and nothing more.

A car (a beautiful black Mercedes) already stood by the gates when Sherlock came down from the manor. As soon as Sherlock was seen a man, the chauffeur jumped out of the car and took the luggage from Sherlock then opened the door with a stiff bow of his head.

By the time the car arrived at London it was already time for Luncheon. Seconds after the car reached its goal, Diagon alley,, more precisely the Leaky Cauldron, and deposited Sherlock and his luggage it sped away into the daily London traffic.

Walking up to the barman Sherlock laid a couple coins on the greasy table.

"I'll take a room for two weeks," the man nodded accepting the money and passing Sherlock a key.

"Should I show you to your room?" He asked. Sherlock shook his head.

"No I'm fine." Taking his key Sherlock blundered up the stairs and to the correct room number. The door opened with a stiff groan and Sherlock frowned. Next time, if there were a next time, he would use a different inn. As soon as he was sure his room was not contaminated with mice or rats, Sherlock slipped out of the inn and went to explore Diagon Alley. As he passed the now darkened shops and dull streets he couldn't help but remember how it had all been before the war had started, before his mother had become all sick and his father had been alive. The streets had been alight with conversation and laughter; music had floated through the air. Slowly Sherlock shook his head. However, it wasn't like that now, he couldn't live in the past.  
Confidently Sherlock made his way to Gringotts doors, which still held the message on them. He snorted; Gringotts was nothing but a pattern, a labyrinth all made with one single formula.  
Sherlock sped to a young goblin in fact the youngest looking of them all. It seemed as if he had just taken the job. Sherlock took a small key out of his pocket.

"I wish to go to my vault," he said to the goblin who nodded and jumped of his stool. He signalled Sherlock to follow him and started walking to the doors. Soon they were driving through the tunnels under the bank and the whole city. Sherlock grinned as he worked the pattern out. As they reached their goal the cart slowed down, stopping in front of a big metal door with the number 34 stamped upon it. The goblin, now introduced as the youngest goblin to work in Gringotts – Griphook, pulled the key out of his inner coat pocket and stuck it in the lock. He then turned it.  
The door opened with a loud squeak, which rebounded through all the halls and tunnels.

Sherlock stepped inside not paying attention at anything but the gold he had to pull out. One of his ancestors, his great-grandfather had decided to explore the vault and ended up dying in the room of riches.

There were just too many books, charts, brooms, old trunks.

The young socio-path scooped up a handful of galleons another handful of sickles and another of knuts. Then without any other delay he slipped out of the vault letting out a sigh of relief slip through his mouth. The goblin nodded and signalled to the cart.

"If you will, master Holmes," Sherlock jumped in the cart without saying anything and the pair started their return journey to the land of humans.

Sherlock still had to buy all his things for Hogwarts and that is what he did. Firstly, he went to the cloak shop frowning at the sight of it empty, usually it was full with people waiting for their turn to get measured.  
As he opened the door there was a small ring of a bell that ran throughout the whole shop. After several minutes, a woman emerged from behind a curtain of beads.

"Hello dear, so Hogwarts is it?" Sherlock nodded.

"Yes, of course."

"Well, then let's get you measured up."

"Is it possible you know where I can get a duster?" He asked as she went behind the counter to find the things she needed. She looked up with a raised eyebrow.

"Since when are students interested in dusters?" Seeing his glare, she answered his question quickly, "The muggle brand Belstaff provides very good quality dusters." Sherlock nodded in thanks then sighed.

"And do you know where I can get a good quality suit, one that could be muggle _and _magical?" She looked at him oddly.

"Spencer Hart, is rather good, only it's very expensive-"

"Price is nothing," he said frowning. She gazed at him as if confused.

"We should get started." After a long agonizing time standing on a stool with several pins sticking into his skin Sherlock was relieved when he paid and was able to run out of the shop. The next station was the bookshop. After several other shops, Sherlock stopped at the last shop he had to go into Ollivanders.  
Once more, the door opened and a tinkle sounded throughout the mysterious shop. A man emerged from behind the endless stacks of wand boxes. He gazed at Sherlock with wonder.

"Holmes, Sherlock Holmes," the man said. Sherlock nodded in confirmation.

"Yes, I am here to buy a wand," the man raised an eyebrow and with humour said, "What a queer place to buy a wand." Sherlock frowned at the bad humour.

"Yes, indeed, I should rather go to a different place." Sherlock said to Ollivander. The man suddenly laughed nervously and shook his head, his mysterious act gone.

"No, no it's quite alright, please stay here," Ollivander smiled. Sherlock scoffed.

"If you insist."

When he came back out of the shop Sherlock was slightly weary, he had tried a very big amount of wands but none had worked for him. He ended up getting a wand with a chicken feather (yes, chickens were considered a magic animal) in it. Once again, Sherlock opened the box and gazed at the very weak wand. He had to get a good one.

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**I hoped you liked it, how I have transformed it...**


	2. Chapter 2

**So here is chapter 2...**

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The funeral ran smoothly, his mother was buried in Kensal Green Cemetery next her husband.

It was a quiet funeral with only a couple of family friends and of course - family. As soon as the funeral was over Sherlock made a beeline to Oxford Street. It was a Monday, just after twelve o'clock, everyone was on the streets for lunch and Sherlock had trouble walking through them.

Sherlock thought back to the map he had gazed at for a full hour right before the funeral, just to occupy his mind. Now he used his photographic memory.

In a matter of minutes, he found the store he had been looking for: Spencer Hart. He walked right into the shop and went to the first assistant he could find.

"Can I help you sir?" She asked. Sherlock rolled his eyes.

"Why do you think I came to you?" He asked her with a raised eyebrow. She frowned. "Oh, and yes, you _can _help me; I wish to get a whole new closet." She nodded and suddenly her face split into a smile then she frowned once more as looked around, searching for his 'parents'.  
She took him to an extra room to get measured up and Sherlock realized suddenly that she _was_ actually a professional.

In basically no time he had three new bags of clothes, including the duster he had wanted in the first place.

Sherlock gazed at the mirror, something was missing, he knew it.

"Do you have scarf's here?" He asked as he paid his stuff. The woman raised an eyebrow. "It's, just been cold, I mean this summer."

"You should go to Paul Smith, they have nice scarf's and gloves."She said. Sherlock nodded.

"Thank you." And with that he left the shop.

It was the 1st of September.

Sherlock arrived five minutes before 11 o'clock and the train was already buzzing with people. People were milling about the place but the crowd parted as they saw the intimidating young boy pushing his luggage on a trolley. His luggage consisted of his trunk and an owl cage with a pure black owl.

Sherlock got on the train lifting his luggage with no problem and taking the owl cage with a free hand. Sherlock went to the very last compartment where three other girls in his year were chatting excitedly. Sherlock opened the door with a slam.

"Out," he said in a quiet but dangerous voice. The girls jumped up and instantly threw their luggage out to the corridor then jumped out as well. Sherlock slammed the door shut and sat down, now alone. Sherlock sat there with the window open assessing everyone on the platform. There were many, many, many different people; blood, races, religion and Sherlock even glimpsed a couple of different half-creatures.

Soon though the train was full. Suddenly there was a knock on his door. Until then no one had bothered to ask Sherlock if they could sit there. His intimidating figure that was seen through the glass was enough to scare them away. But now the door opened and a small for his age boy came in, with the eyes of a prankster and round glasses like those that professors often wore. His hair was jet black and seemed to look like a mop had been stuck to his skull.

"Can we sit here?" The boy asked with a raised eyebrow. _He might be small, _Sherlock thought, _but he`s got plenty of courage. _Sherlock shrugged and looked out the window noticing the train had started to move."I take that as a yes," he muttered and walked in behind him two other boys came in, one a little taller and the other just a little smaller. The second one that came in had nice black hair that hung around his face in a handsome way. He walked with an air of a prankster as well but held himself with dignity and power. _Definitively an aristrocrat's son, _thought Sherlock. Behind him came the other boy. He seemed to be radiating with triumph as if he couldn't believe he was finally here. There was a sort of watchfulness to his face that never left. He seemed to be worried about it but didn't want to talk about it. Sherlock's eyes narrowed, the boy had definitively a secret he wanted to keep.

"What?" Said the one with the nice combed hair. "You keep looking at us as if we are subjects in an experiment." Sherlock snorted. And frowned.

"My name is Potter, James Potter." Sherlock's eyes swung to Potter. He raised his chin nodding.

"Ah, that explains it."

"What?" Potter demanded furiously. Sherlock ignored him. In fact, it explained almost nothing, he just wanted to feel like the superior in the room.

"I'm Remus Lupin, nice to meet you," Sherlock nodded to Lupin in acknowledgement, he noticed the wisdom behind that mask he wore.

"Black, Sirius Black," said the one with the dark nice hair. Sherlock's eyes narrowed at the young lord. It was well known that the Black and Holmes family were something like enemies. No one said anything for a few moments, seeing the glare battle the two were having. Potter, seeing Sherlock was not going to say anything until asked raised an eyebrow. "Don`t you think it's unfair if you know our names and we don't know yours?" Sherlock frowned as Blacks eyes went down to his shoes suddenly very interested in them.

"I am Sherlock Holmes," he muttered to the group of awaiting boys. A long silence befell the group. Suddenly the door opened and a girl stood there with a boy with very greasy hair behind her.

"Snape," Sherlock stood up, facing the crooked nosed boy. Snape frowned.

"Holmes," he paused for the dramatic effect, "Lily, honestly, I think we should find another compartment." Sherlock frowned, his eyes never leaving Snape's.

"Nonsense Sev, let's sit down," By the time everyone was sitting they were all squashed up in their seats. The sat in silence for a long time.

"Wait! You're Holmes!" Sherlock's eyes swung to Lily's.

"Yes I think Snape here stated that for us very clearly."

"I heard about you, some girls were crying in the corridor and you told them to get out!" Lily cried frowning at the consulting detective.

"Yes and?" The future marauders looked at him with admiring expressions.

"Wicked." Muttered Potter.

"That is _not _nice." She muttered seeing she was losing her arguments quickly.

"Is it really?" Sherlock cocked his head to the side like a curious cat.

"I thought it was rather nice to tell them to get out or would you rather I sent them crying out after telling them their histories." A few of them exchanged glances. Snape snorted.

"You think it's funny do you? Should I mention your name, I find that at least 10 times funnier." Snape reddened.

"How can you tell the history of someone else, that's impossible!" Snape scoffed, "I think I want proof,"

"As you wish," Sherlock narrowed his eyes as he turned to look at Evans. "Ah," he muttered. Blacks eyes brightened, "You are a muggle born, most likely... ah yes your father is a business man and you rarely see him because he travels so much. your mother worked in a hospital for some time until your sister (who is older that you) was born. You only found out about magic when you met Snape here presumably before you both came here. Now you have had family problems lately, your sister, yes your sister, she doesn't approve of you being a witch and she is jealous because she isn't coming with you. On one hand, you are happy you are leaving because you don't have to face her any more but then again you are sad because you don't want to anger your sister. This summer you have been in Germany, in the Black forest most likely visiting family friends and you only came back yesterday." Sherlock took a deep breath after that long monologue."And you Snape, you were born in Scotland but you now live in south London but lately you have been having financial problems and for some reason you are angry at your family, and you are now directing that anger at me. You write and read a lot, mostly about potions and dark stuff. All wizardry books. You are the youngest of seven and you get all the hand me downs for that reason you have those patched up robes and so many name-tags on the back. So, tell me, did I get all of that right." Sherlock finished looking mainly at Evans who was having a hard time not tearing up.

"You beast!" She cried and ran out of the compartment with Snape running in her wake. Sherlock shrugged.

"I was hoping she'd tell me if I was right." As Sherlock said this the others stared at him with awe.

"That was brilliant!" Said Black grinning. Sherlock shot them all a glance and raised an eyebrow.

"That is not what people usually say," he muttered to them.

"What _do _people usually say?" Queried Potter with a raised eyebrow. Sherlock shrugged.

"Piss off."

It was dark when the train finally arrived at Hogsmade and the four had already become something like friends.

As they came out of the train a loud voice boomed over the chatter and the splattering rain, "Firs`years, Firs`years ove`here!" Sherlock's eyes travelled to the source and found himself staring at a very, very, tall man with very big hands. Sherlock gestured to his `friends`to the giant standing with the lamp. As they walked to the giant Sherlock pulled his cloak closer to himself to shelter himself from the harsh wind and rain and reached the giant.

"Could you possibly be Hagrid?" Sherlock asked the man. The man turned to look at Sherlock and his eyes widened.

"It can`t be!" He cried. "You are your fathers son!"

"Yes, I've been told I look at him," Sherlock thought perhaps he had said that line a notch to cold. Hagrid suddenly frowned as realisation hit him.

"Oh, sorry `bout yah fathe`," He muttered lamely then continued calling out the cry he had been before.

Minutes later the four boys were sitting in a boat floating through the lake where the squid lived. Sherlock kept frowning as ice-cold water splashed on him, which Potter and Black were splashing at each other. He was already wet enough, Sherlock thought angrily.

Then suddenly it wasn't enough for Potter to simply splash water on Sirius. He grabbed the boy by the jacket and threw him over board. Everyone around them burst out laughing. Sherlock rolled his eyes and pulled his cloak around him a little tighter.

Sirius angrily burst out from under the water and gestured for Potter to pull him up. Hesitating slightly James extended one arm and took Sirius`s hand. It all seemed to happen in slow motion. Black grabbed onto the ledge. The boat was suddenly very unstable. It started wobbling. At that moment, Black let go. It was too much for the poor boat. The change of weight so suddenly made it turn around and everyone in the boat was thrown in the water. More laughter, more embarrassment. Sherlock rolled his eyes as Hagrid helped him out.

"You! What is yar name!" He bellowed at James. Sherlock smirked in his direction. James grinned.

"James Potter," Then as an afterthought he added, "Sorry."

"You might as well be." Said the giant as he turned the boat around and pulled the other marauders on it, Sherlock was thrown on it as well. He glared at James who had overturned the boat and settled back in the place he had been sitting on before. Luckily, for everyone the two stopped splashing.

It was exactly 10 minutes later that they arrived at the cave like entrance. As they walked up the staircases they were greeted by a kind professor with a long white beard... His eyes ran over the group and he frowned, the first year group that year had been small. His eyes fell on the marauders (and on the fast growing pool of water) and he tried to stop chuckling. They looked miserable. And Sherlock was aware of that, but he tried to make it _not_ show.

Dumbledore muttered something under his breath which sounded something like, _there are always ones that fall in._

By the time they were cuddled up in front of the doors to the Great Hall Sherlock could feel the nervousness basically floating of in waves around him. He noticed Remus looked even more petrified (_interesting, _thought Sherlock), he was very pale and fidgeting even more than the others.

Sherlock noticed another such case. A small boy standing in the corner (he looked like a rat), looking abashed and abandoned seemed to be trying to hold back tears but Sherlock realized they were just that - watery eyes.

Swinging his eyes away from the small boy Sherlock turned to the now opening doors. He looked confidently at his fiends who seemed to try to pull themselves together.

"I heard it's a test." Muttered a boy in front of them to Lily who nodded and seemed to pale even more.

And suddenly there they were seconds later standing at the end of the hall, in front of the head table. Dumbledore was making a short announcement.

"And when I call your names you will come up here and put the hat on." But before he could start, the now visible hat which sat on the stool started singing. Sherlock looked about, bewildered, every other student seemed completely at ease. Apparently the hat did this every year.

As soon as the song ended the whole room burst out in laughter and applause. Sherlock watched as Dumbledore started calling names out.

"Abbot, John." A scrawny kid (in Sherlock's standards) walked up to the stool and put the hat on. Seconds later there was a loud "Hufflepuff!" From the hat. Some first years stared they had not thought it would be that simple.

"Black, Sirius." Dumbledore said, Black stumbled up the stairs and walked to the hat looking profoundly nervous.

The hat didn't even seem to sit on his head when it shouted, "GRYFFINDOR!" Sherlock saw Potter put a thumbs up grinning from ear to ear. A few more names passed then...

"Evans, Lily." She was sorted into Ravenclaw.

"Holmes, Sherlock." A long silence fell upon the whole room, there was no more chatter and no more laughter. Everyone just followed Sherlock as he walked to the hat confidently. Upon seeing him several people instantly thought Slytherin. The hat fell on his head and Sherlock could see no more.

_Ah interesting mind...  
well, yes, than you.  
But where shall I put you?  
Any house but Slytherin  
Why?  
My brother is there.  
Ah yes Mycroft Holmes.  
Yes.  
The sneaky one. The one that looks like a pig. _Sherlock was close to snorting.  
Yes that _one.  
You probably will want to stay with your friends  
Sure  
then GRYFFINDOR!_

The last word was shouted and Sherlock found the hat being pulled off his head. His eyes wandered to the Slytherins and his eyes met Mycroft and he glared at him with pure hatred. Seconds later he was sitting beside Sirius who was already clapping him on the back. Soon Lupin was sorted into Griffindor as well. After him came the small boy Sherlock had spotted earlier, his name was announced as Peter Pettigrew and was sorted into Slytherin at which Sherlock frowned.

As the year had been to small the only first year Griffindors were those four boys.

As Sherlock sat on his place on that long bench, he couldn't help but be happy. For the first time his thoughts never wandered to his mother or his father.

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**Ok, thanks for reading, Im very sorry that I have so many mistakes (I know I do) but English is my third language. And Im still learning two others, words get often mixed in my mind. **

**Once again I thank you for reading.**

** :D :-P**


	3. Chapter 3

**I'm back...**

**So here is chapter three...  
**

**Hope you like it...  
**

* * *

The next morning Sherlock woke up as he felt some one shake him. He had always slept in, in the mornings and this was quite new having to wake up at half past seven in the morning. Of course he had never gone to school before, not even kindergarten.

Shaking his head Sherlock sat up to see a Black standing in front of him his finger on his lips as a sign to shut up. He motioned to Potters bed in which he was furiously turning and speaking to himself.

"No, no, NO! Not dad! Please! I beg you!" Sherlock raised an eyebrow and noticed Remus was also awake staring at his friend mumbling incomprehensible words and such things. Sherlock slowly slipped out of bed. He moved to his friend and placed to fingers on his neck on a vein that was pulsing.

"His pulse is low." He sighed deeply. "Very funny James, stop it now." There was a long silence then James sat up from his bed casting Sherlock admiring glances.

"How did you know it was a joke." Sherlock shrugged.

"I don't see how it is a joke, I merely see it as a sign of immaturity, besides a person who is having nightmares breathes in a very deep way, when you are awake you breathe in a shallow way. Try that next time. Oh, yes I forgot, your pulse was way to low for you to be having such troubled nightmares." Sherlock then turned on his heel and marched back into his bed where he fell asleep almost instantly.

...

It was only two hours later when the four boys were woken up by a very grumpy prefect who was mumbling something about to much celebrating and hangovers. By the time they were all ready Sherlock was already in the common room reading a muggle newspaper he still got.

"So what are you reading there?" Sherlocks head shot up and he found himself meeting the eyes of a pretty girl with too much make up for her age.

"Nothing that concerns you." He muttered angrily. The girl frowned and her face got a few tingles of pink.

"Oh." At that moment the future marauders came down the stairs. Sherlock rolled his eyes.

"What were you doing up there." Sirius grinned.

"We got into a mess, apparently _someones_ mother decided to pack him some shaving cream... well you can guess what happened then." Said Potter glancing at Sirius. "And I'm not pointing fingers at any one." There was another of those long silences where everyone who had not been there imagined the scene.

Sherlock suddenly turned to the girl, "What are _you _still doing here?" The girl reddened and quickly run off. Sirius stared at him.

"You just told a girl to leave!" He cried exasperated. Sherlock shrugged.

"I'm not interested in women." Remus and James exchanged a look and both turned away to stop from laughing.

"So you have no girlfriends?" Sirius said with wonder clearly etched on his face. Sherlock shrugged.

"And boyfriends?" There was a long silence where every one but Sherlock was trying to not laugh. Sherlock examined Sirius who was now completely interested and not even laughing any more.

"Look Sirius while I'm flattered... I consider myself married to my work so... I cant have a relationship." Sherlock smirked and then turning around he sped through the portrait.

"Wait... work?"

On that day the marauders found out, with Sherlock Holmes they would never get the last word.

...

As they sat having breakfast in the great hall Sherlock was examining his time-table.

Sirius on the other hand had been running the conversation they had had in his mind. A thought hit him.

"You said Work?" Sherlock raised his head and frowned realizing he had made a mistake saying that particular word. The others seemed to also take interest in the conversation. James raised his head and Remus raised an eyebrow.

"Oh, did I?" But Sirius didn't want to let it go.

"Yes. You did, I wanted to ask why you have a job and what is it?" Sherlock shrugged.

"Difficult to explain. Maybe Ill tell you some day." And he went back to the timetable making it clear the conversation was over.

He seemed to glare at it so hard, it was as if he was trying to burn the thing with his eyes. Finally he put it down. Professor Dumbledore, the deputy headmaster but the head of Griffindor stared at Sherlock oddly as Sherlock continued to memorize it.

"Is everything all right Mr. Holmes?" Sherlock shrugged.

"I'm fine." He said his eyes not leaving the paper for another minute. Then his gaze slid upwards again.

"OK, got it."

"Go`wha`" said Remus with a full mouth of pancakes. Sherlock looked at him critically as if he was asking Remus with his glance how stupid he exactly was.

"Memorized the time table of course." Dumbledore who had just finished giving timetables out stopped in mid step as he was returning to the stafftable.

"Excuse me?" Sherlock turned to face Dumbledore.

"Sorry?"

"Did you just say you memorized the timetable, Mr. Holmes." Sherlock nodded his frown increasing by the second.

"Is there something wrong about that?" He asked completely innocent.

"No, no its quite alright." The old man shook his head once more and blinked. Suddenly Sherlock recognized something about the face. The eyes, and even the nose, perhaps the ears. But it could not be.

"Mr. Solace?" He asked weakly. Dumbledore turned to Sherlock eyes twinkling.

"The world is small isn't it Mr. Holmes." And he walked off in the direction on the staff table leaving a stunned Sherlock shaking his head and blinking every now and then.

Their first subject was potions, a subject Sherlock dreaded and hated above all others, it was one of his weak spots as well as cooking and cleaning. Sherlock declared he had forgotten his bag in their dorm and Potter agreed to go with him. Sherlock rolled his eyes as they walked down to the potions classroom knowing they were late.

When they had come in the room it had been filled with Shaving cream and several deodorant smells were lingering in the air. Sherlock frowned.

"Now this mess is worse than the one I have at home." They ended up cleaning part of it and opening the windows. By the time they came down to the classroom half of the period had already gone past. They came into the room Sherlock in the lead. Slughorn, the potions master, blinked a couple of times.

"Where _have _you been?" Sherlock shrugged.

"My textbooks fell out the window and we had to search for them." He lied smoothly, several giggles sped about the room. Slughorn frowned about.

"It seemes as if you will have to sit by Miss. Evans over there Mr..."

"Holmes, Sherlock Holmes."

" Yes, you sit there. And you Mr..."

"Potter, James Potter sir." James said eyes searching for the last free seat. Slughorn said the persons name which he had to sit next to just as James realized it.

"Mr. Potter you will sit with Mr. Snape."

...

It was after dinner but James was still full of rage directed at Slughorn and Snape while Sherlock was still complaining about having to sit next to the "Bookworm". But Sherlock didn't show that outright at Lily Evans. He knew Lily Evans was excellent at potions, he was rubbish so he needed her.

It was the same case with Potter and Snape but Potter unlike Sherlock didn't want to do it quietly. Just a couple of hours later he was already moaning that he didnt want to sit next to the 'greasy git' and in days James had already targeted the boy.

They were walking out of transfiguration three days later and James smirked at the group nodding to the greasy haired boy. Flicking his wand and muttering a simple incantation they had learned that day in charms, Snapes hair turned a bright neon pink. People around burst out laughing. Snape thinking they were talking about his greasy 'black' hair, which everyone _was_ laughing at just now it was _pink, _anyway Snape ducked his head and almost run down the next hall.

Sherlock rolled his eyes and muttered one sentence, "Next time you see him tell me, I want to try out one of my invented spells."

James grinned and smirked at the Sirius and Remus. Sherlock once again rolled his eyes and started off to their next class.

It was in fact after their last class that Sherlock saw Snape. His hair was still pink at which everyone still laughed. The other three boys stared after Sherlock expectantly as Sherlock flicked his wand and muttered the common spell under his breath. Snapes bag split and the Slytherin boy cursed. But that had been just the distraction. Sherlock closed his eyes and took a deep breath remembering his spell he had perfected in his time alone in his room.

"Levicorpus!" Sherlock said it loud and clear and everyone heard it perfectly. Those around him turned to Sherlock to see where the wand was pointing but were turned away when they heard Snapes cry of surprise as his split bag spilled once more on the ground and he was hoisted up into the air by his ankle. Everyone burst out laughing but one girl who had been standing beside Snape, waiting for him. Her face was now very sour. Lily Evans frowned at the boy holding the wand.

Sherlock shrugged as he met her icy gaze and fought it. He won.

"Put him down NOW!" She almost yelled at Sherlock. He shrugged.

"I never thought of making a counter spell." There was some scattered laughter around in the circle of people. Evans was suddenly fuming with anger, she reached into her bag and pulled out a thick book obvious to Sherlock she had taken it out of the library.

"Finite incantetum!" She cried and pointed her wand straight at the young Snape boy. He crashed down on the floor. Sherlock frowned.

"Actually I think I did think of a counter spell. Should I try it on him?" He asked Evans. Once again there was some scattered laughter about. Without another word Lily Evans, the muggle girl, picked up Snapes books and her own bag and they sped off down the hall way and around the corner.

"Does he always have to do that!" Muttered Sirius with mock sadness.

"Yeah, we were having so much fun!" James said with the same type of tone. Remus frowned.

"You should really lay of them a bit." Sherlock rolled his eyes.

"He's a greasy git." Said the socio-path.

"Ok, true." Remus muttered beaten.

That very evening Sherlock was interrupted in his thinking place by the fire in the Griffindor common room. After six days at Hogwarts Sherlock was almost bored to death, this interruption was welcome, at least he had something to do.

An owl flew in through the open window and into the common room and landed straight in front of Sherlock. The owl stuck its foot out and seemed to present it the Sherlock. He slipped the scroll off his foot. The owl hooted once and Sherlock stroked its head. Slowly he unrolled the scroll and started reading. By the end of the letter his eyes were wide and staring.

_Dear Mr. Holmes, _

_I remember before you left for the funeral you sent me a letter,  
telling me how you could no longer take my lessons on the violin.  
I am happy to tell you I will happily take up your lessons again,  
If you are agreeable send me a yes through this owl and meet me  
in my office at six o'clock sharp, tomorrow of course._

_I look forward to our lessons,  
Prof. Dumbledore._

But as soon as Sherlock finished the letter he grinned tightly as if his mouth was not used to smiling at all. From behind him Sherlock heard Remus' footsteps. He was trying to be silent. Sherlock shook his head, Where would Remus be trying yo go at this time of the night. The portrait swung open and Sherlock stood up swiftly but he was too late when he emerged out of the Gryffindor house as Remus had already left running.

Sighing Sherlock turned and was about to take a step but he was facing Sirius and James who were determinately looking at the back of the portrait.

"Sorry? Did I miss something?" Sherlock asked with a raised eyebrow.

"Um, yeah, Remus just ran out saying he needed to go to the hospital room." Said James

"Didn't you see him?" Added Black.

"Of course I saw him you idiot!" Sherlock raised his hands to his lips as if in prayer and paced the room slowly, his mind racing.

"We can't go after him, he's already gone and I very much doubt he's in the hospital wing anyway, he had a cloak on." A thought hit Sherlock and he run to the window, but nothing was there, he suddenly remembered the statue of that witch on... was it the sixth floor? It had been clearly a secret passage as the floor had been used there often. The statue had been pointing to hogs made so that is where it went. He lowered his hands.

"Ok, I've a plan."

It was just minutes later when Sherlock led them to a small shack next to Hogsmade.

He signalled the other boys to not make noise and they started to walk up the stairs which squeaked no matter how hard their efforts were. As they reached the top floor in which there was a sitting room, or used to be. They walked inside and noticed the bundle of cloths in one part of the room. Slowly Sherlock walked to the now trembling and sobbing bundle.

"Remus?" The bundle seemed to jump up and suddenly standing there was Remus Lupin looking very angry.

"WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU DOING HERE?" He yelled at them. Sherlock shrugged.

"Looking for you."

"Yeah, mate."

"What are you doing here?" Asked James raising an eyebrow. Sherlock narrowed his eyes.

"I predict, you are something, a creature perhaps." Lupin seemed to now be in pain.

"You've gotta leave! Please!" He said between admiration and anger and pain. Sherlock frowned and walked around him.

"You didn't go out last night or the night before, only tonight and the moon is full, you're a were-wolf." There was a deathly silence in the room in which no one said anything. Finally Remus slumped his shoulders.

"I-I was afraid if I told you, you wouldn't be my friends." Sherlock shook his head and put his hand on Lupins shoulder.

"We'll always be friends, really." Lupin turned to look up at Sherlock great fully.

"Yeah we'll always stick together."

"Creatures rock." Lupin doubled in pain.

"Ok, nice and... everything... now just... LEAVE!" He said between breaths and Sherlock gestured to the stairs.

"Ok, this is becoming quite urgent... Come ON!"

As months came and passed Sherlock was aware the weather was becoming chillier and colder, snow started to fall and people were all of a sudden running from place to place in thick cloaks trying to get something warm to put on or drink and Sherlock was still trying to find a solution to Lupins furry little problem. He found himself spending more and more time in the library researching and researching, this of course was all done behind his friends' backs.

Due to Remus' furry little problem the others started to call him Moony, a rather funny name which was a sort of inside joke in their small group. Even though everyone called him Moony as well, well, mostly, no one could find out the meaning.

At the end of December, Sherlock was very busy, he had solved several cases through the papers and gotten money from being in a few private cases as a private detective. Some cases he did for free of course, as a hobby when things were just too simple. His magic was horrible because of the chicken feathered wand and he was starting to regret he hadn't accepted Ollivanders offer to take the dragon heartstring wand.

Sherlock was also doing all his research and he was learning for his violin lessons in the owl tower which was almost always deserted.

In fact Sherlock stood there now playing a beautiful sad Christmas tune on his violin. Through the small arcs that could have been windows without glass, big amounts of snow blew in, the owls were all cuddling together and even some listening to the beautiful tune. The few birds that stayed there for the winters had flown over and were either cuddling with the owls or on the window sill listening to the music. Sherlock eyes were closed, totally at peace after many months.

As he finished the sad tune he started with another even sadder and even more beautiful.

Sherlock was in his dream world when he heard the footsteps of a young girl. He came out of his daze but continued playing, his back was facing the entrance and face facing the glassless window. As he too finished that other tune he let the violin drop from his chin and he let his bow hand (with the bow) drop to his side. Without turning he muttered, "It is very rude to listen at doors, even though that isn't a door, wouldn't you agree, Evans?" Now turning Sherlock's eyes fell upon Evans which were tearing up and a bit puffy. In her hand was a letter which she was no doubt about to send.

She smiled kindly at him for the first time.

"I never knew you played the violin."

"You don't know many things about me, for example, you don't know I am a fox animagus." He muttered, something stirring in his mind as if his mind had registered that as very important. Her eyes widened.

"You are a fox animagus?" Sherlock smiled tightly.

"No! Of course not! I'm a wolf animagus." She grinned and giggled. Evans (Oh, screw it, thought Sherlock)-Lily, moved closer to him.

"Really? That's cool." She said. Sherlock shrugged.

"You know what's the problem with you people?" Without waiting for an answer he continued, "A normal englishman will usually think the other person is saying the truth _after _they have lied. Actually, if you think about it a person who has lied already is more likely to lie _again." _ Lily stared at the socio-path. "Oh, and I'm _not _an animagus."

"I've never thought of it that way..." She muttered.

"Of course you haven't," Sherlock muttered back.

"You play really good." She said suddenly, changing the subject and gesturing to the violin. Sherlock shrugged.

"Dumbledore says I don't put enough feeling into it." She frowned.

"That's ridiculous." Sherlock shrugged.

"I don't get it either, notes are notes, they are a simple code which you only have to translate onto the instrument." Lily nodded.

"That makes sense." She said. "You know you aren't as bad as I thought." Sherlock frowned.

"And you aren't so book wormy as I thought." Lily frowned as well but then she realized he was joking. Sherlock raised an eyebrow when he saw her giggling.

"I should go, I need to do something."

It was a couple minutes later that Sherlock was in the safety of the warm library. No one was there as everyone was having lunch. As he sat in the library re-reading all the books for a thousandth time to make sure he hadn't missed anything, Sherlocks mind strayed back to the conversation with Lily Evans.

What had he said that hat roused his mind from that deep sleep. The answer seemed to come to him so suddenly he jumped out of his seat and knocked his knee against the table. Some of the books that had been sprawled about the table dropped on the floor and Sherlock earned a hiss from the librarian. Sherlock was instantly among the A shelves not the W shelves where he had been looking for Were-wolves. Now instead he was looking for Animagus.

He pulled out the first book about Animagi from the shelf. Flicking through it Sherlock discovered the book only described what animagi were. The other books were the same Sherlock discovered. Frowning Sherlock thought through his choices. He could sneak into the restricted section, or he could make a form himself. Sherlock picked a random book from the shelf and turned to the last pages which were usually blanks. Taking his quill out Sherlock wrote a brief letter as if from Prof. Slughorn. Sherlock came up to the front desk at which sat the strict librarian, McGonnogal.

He passed the letter to her which she eyed suspiciously. Sherlock raised his eyebrow when she cleared her throat.

"And Prof. Slughorn has allowed you to go into the restricted section to research what exactly?" Sherlock frowned. But his razor sharp mind thought immediately of a solution.

"I am supposed to make research about the Bezoar, he said I was too noisy in class and I got an extra essay." He lied smoothly. McGonnogal eyed him suspiciously.

"Very well, you have half an hour." Sherlock nodded his thanks and swept past her. He was aware of her eyes on his back as he walked past the ancient doors leading into the resticted section.

Sadly there too Sherlock only found books on how Animagi could be identified. Half an hour later Sherlock emerged sighing deeply. McGonnogal frowned at the lack of books in his hands.

"Did you find anything?" Sherlock shook his head.

"No."

"Come here a second."

"Of course." He walked slowly toward her sensing that feeling in the air that she did not trust him.

"You are not researching Bezoars are you?" Sherlock raised his eyebrows.

"Mmm...no." McGonnogal took a deep breath.

"So you faked a letter and you were just searching for restricted books, which technically you are not allowed to read."

"Well, yes."

"You do realize books in the restricted section, are restricted that is why they are called so?" Sherlock frowned.

"Yes."

"Then you know the consequences of doing such things."

"Ye-um-no."

"Then you will know so for the future."

"Thank you for this Prof. McGonnogal." She nodded.

"Yes, but for exchange I would like you to tell me what you are researching." Sherlock frowned. But then nodded, she could actually help him.

"I wish to become an animagus." The first sign on her face was amazement and wonder.

"Thank you for being so truthful."

"Could you help me." She eyed him suspiciously.

"Is anyone doing it with you." Sherlock took a deep breath.

"Yes." Seeing he wasn't about to elaborate she smiled kindly.

"Who else?"

"James Potter, Sirius Black... well, they don't know about it but... I was about to tell them." McGonnogal smiled at him.

"I remember your father, I came here while he was in his fifth year, he was a very good boy. He looked just-"

"Like me, I've been told."

"-Very polite, and always trying to help and learn. I see that in you. He approached me in his sixth year, he wanted to become an animagus as well. Oh, god bless him, I am very sorry for your loss. For that reason I wish to help you." Sherlock took a deep breath.

"Thank you." McGonnogal nodded in acknowledgement and leaned back then pulled out a thick leather bound book from the her private shelf.

"Here, I leave this in your care, lets say this is my Christmas present for you, I have no need for it any more. This book guided me when I became an animagus. Here." She gave him the book.

"And I don't want to know what you need this for." Sherlock smiled tightly which surprised the librarian.

"I'm sure you don't want to know, and thank you." She nodded and Sherlock slipped out of the room eyes shining with triumph and something to do.

That evening they were all sitting by the fire while it blazed. Remus was gone, in the Shrieking Shack as it was now called. Sirius was absent-mindedly turning to fire different colours.

These were the armchairs of the four future marauders. After a couple of times of shooing other people out of the armchairs it was agreed that those armchairs were never to be occupied but by the group.

Sherlock suddenly leaned in.

"I've got a plan." The others suddenly looked about him."It's about the furry little problem Moony has." He muttered to them seeing to confused glances. Sirius who hadn't been paying attention that well suddenly was giving his best attention."I was in the library researching-"

"-So that's where you've been going for all this time." Muttered James.

"-about were-wolves and well, I remembered a conversation I had with someone. We had talked about animagi, only briefly, but when I was in the library I suddenly remembered: We could become animagi, I think creature life would help a were-wolf don't you think?" Without waiting for an answer he continued."Anyway I made a fake letter from Slughorn and got into the restricted section but I found nothing, and then McGonnogal asked me what I was researching, I told her and she gave me this." He pulled the book from where he had placed it on the floor and presented it too his friends.

After some brief looks into the book the other two nodded the agreement had come to an end.

At first, the first three nights the three were able to practice in their dorm but as soon as Remus came, three days later, they were stuck with a problem so now Sherlock had to find a way to do it. In less than a day he found a solution.

He made it look as if Sirius, James and himself joined a club about Herbology saying they thought they weren't good enough. They said that knowing Remus hated the subject but was rather good at it. He would never join it, even to be with his friends.

They had just started choosing their animals. James was going to be a stag or something alike. Sirius decided a black big dog would be useful. Sherlock grinned as he told them his animagi as if he was laughing at a private joke (which he was), he was going to become a fox.

And before any of them knew it, it was already summer and they had to go on holidays.

As they went in the train through the beautiful countryside, for the first time in ages he thought of his mother. Would she have been proud of him or sad at what Sherlock had become? Would she want him to continue using that mask of coldness to repel people or would she make him try to socialize a bit more?

"...come over." Sherlock spun his head to James who was talking to all of them.

"Sorry, I wasn't listening." James sighed.

"I was asking you guys if you wanted to come over for the last two weeks of holidays." Sherlock shrugged after Remus nodded in acceptance to the invitation and Sirius smiled and punched his hand in the air saying stuff like "Great! I have two weeks less with my screaming mum!"

"I don't know, honestly, I'm with my uncle from now on in Farnham." The others nodded."I see hat I can try to do." At that moment the doors opened to reveal a tall pignose seventh year. Sherlock frowned. He hadn't seen Mycroft since the sorting. Well, of course he had seen him but they hadn't had a normal conversation. They seemed to avoid each other on purpose.

"Mycroft." Sherlock said in his coldest voice which surprised his friends as well as Mycroft while standing up. Mycroft nodded but his cold dark eyes never left Sherlock's own pale ones.

"Sherlock, do sit down." Mycroft obviously wanted to feel superior thus this polite version of "SIT DOWN!"

Sherlock did not sit much to the amusement of Mycroft.

"What do you want?" Sherlock asked his voice growing colder by the second.

"Oh, you were always so straight to the point."

"What?"

"Oh, all right, you are going to go live with your uncle in Farnham for the summer holidays until you grow of age." Sherlock visibly sulked as now his suspicions had been confirmed.

"He can come and live with me!" Exclaimed Potter after a dull silence.

"No, but thank you with the offer."

"Why cant I just live at home?" Mycroft sighed and pulled a piece of paper from his inside cloak pocket.

"Here, I was waiting until we were on the platform..." Sherlock suspiciously took the piece of paper. As he read his eyes grew bigger and bigger and shinier, the dullness that his friends had always seen in his eyes had now disappeared. Instead he was suddenly sitting upright and with his hands together as if in prayer and touching on his fingertips, a position his friends had seen too many times. Sherlock handed Mycroft the piece of paper back to his brother, eyes still shining.

"Oh, thank you, thank you, thank you!" Mycroft looked at him oddly. Sherlock grinned like the cat from Alice in Wonderland."And yes I am going to Farnham. Now leave please Mycroft." For the rest of the ride no one questioned Sherlock's decision (not that he had much of a decision).

When they reached the platform they separated with brief goodbye and each went their separate way. As Sherlock reached his plump uncle he almost grinned (almost), this was going to be a nice summer, with a serial killer!

* * *

**Ok! So first year at Hogwarts done!  
**

**And Sherlock still has that chicken feathered wand...  
**

**That's going to change in his second year...  
**

**PLZ do this: r&r  
**


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter 4**

**I hope you like it...  
**

* * *

Sherlock frowned at the plan spread out on the floor below him. After a whole month of planning he was finally in the house of the serial killer. He had arranged everything. Paid the newspaper boy, even sabotaged the servants in the house and much more. _Its funny how everything in this world works with money, _thought Sherlock.

He was currently he was in a ventilation chute on the top floor and he had to get to the bottom. He had parachuted onto the roof, gone down the chimney come out the fireplace and walked into the chute. And now Sherlock was trying to find his way to the bottom floor.

It was only moments later that Sherlock heard the noise of gunfire. His eyes widened with surprise, Sherlock scrambled his map together and stated off in the route he had chosen, sincerely hoping nothing had happened. He came to a dead end at which a type of gate had been nailed on. Sherlock rolled his eyes and kicked it out.

As soon as he came out of the chute Sherlock knew he had made a big mistake. Standing up Sherlock brushed the dust off his trousers. Sherlock looked up to the three men in the room.

"Ah, hello gentlemen." Sherlock said using his most polite tone he could. One of the men, Sherlock now realized was dead in his armchair meanwhile there was another man with a gun already pointing at Sherlock, the other man meanwhile was staring at Sherlock with widened eyes and his pig nose flaring.

Sherlock raised an eyebrow.

"Seriously Mycroft?" Sherlock mocked his brother and raised his wand to the man.

"You shouldn't use muggle devices, they are very...unreliable... STUPIFY!" Seconds after Sherlock shot his spell the man slumped down on the floor. Sherlock pulled the gag out of his brothers mouth.

"You aren't allowed to use magic out of school."

"Yes, I know, but Mycroft, you are the head of the secret intelligence, the MI6 for the wizarding community, I suppose you can find an excuse for me." Mycroft frowned.

"Come on then, untie the ropes around my hands an ankles." Sherlock raised his eyebrows.

"Sorry? A thank you would suffice. I just saved your life."

...

It was two weeks later and Sherlock was on his way to the Potter manor. He was in one of his dull moods once more. After a month of running behind the mad serial killer Sherlock was finally finished with him and somehow he had wanted it to end but now that it _had _ended... well, it was just boring.

The car stopped in front of the manor gates and Sherlock walked to the gates. As soon as the car was gone Sherlock walked to the iron gate from which he could feel all the power radiating. Wards that could blow him up with one touch. Shaking his head Sherlock whistled twice for his owl. His owl was almost always gone and only appeared when he called for it. Grinning Sherlock tickled its chin and gave it the small piece of parchment he had written in the car earlier on.

Instantly the owl was gone in a flash of black and yellow fire.

Suddenly the gates were swinging open and Sherlock slipped through pulling his trunk behind him. As he was getting closer to the manor a small elf came running out and picked up Sherlock's trunk without any efforts, only a single grunt.

The main door opened and James came out.

"Hi! We got your owl." He cried. Sherlock continued walking but was tackled down (rugby style) when James crashed on him, hugging him.

"Hey." Sherlock muttered dully. James noticed the difference in his friend from the last time he had seen him in the train when he had been full of life.

They walked into the house.

"MUM!DAD HE'S HERE!" Sherlock raised an eyebrow at the almost stag animagus. "Yeah, I know, mum and dad can't wait to meet you. They think like you are some kind of... god? I suppose that's the right word. Padfoot and Moony are here already."

"Padfoot, as in Sirius?"

"Yeah, he can turn his hands and feet into paws so we called him Padfoot."

"Great and me?" James thought a bit.

"Well, we haven't thought about it, I mean you still haven't turned any of your body parts yet." Sherlock raised an eyebrow.

"I haven't, have I?" With a swish he twirled on the spot and suddenly standing on the floor looking up at James was a big white fox with very sly and intelligent eyes. James seemed to choke on his spit and Sherlock turned back in a zap slapping Potters back to get oxygen into his system. After a few seconds he was all right and he stared at Sherlock.

"And I thought Padfoot was the first to actually transform anything."

Sherlock grinned a little tightly and James led him into the sitting room where his parents were sitting on the couches.

"Ah, hello Sherlock." Said gazing at him.

"Mr. Potter, Mrs. Potter." Sherlock greeted them politely while they smiled at the politeness.

"Did you enjoy your drive here?" Sherlock nodded.

"Yes It was rather pleasant."

"Do you mind us asking what happened there?" Sherlock raised an eyebrow until James' father nodded to his cheek bone.

"Oh, that's nothing." Seeing he wasn't going to get anything out of him he nodded, accepting the answer. He turned to James, or now known as Prongs and glared at him playfully.

"I hope Jamie will show you to your room, come down at lunch at around half past twelve." Sherlock nodded his thanks and followed James who had just disappeared up the stairs.

"Thank you." He called over his shoulder.

They reached the top floor where James showed Sherlock to his room then he showed Sherlock to his own room. As they were walking down the hallway Sherlock turned to James.

"So, I have my animagus form what is my name. We also need to get _you _one." James smiled.

"Actually, I am Prongs as I have the horn things." Sherlock looked stumped.

"Um... Thanks for not telling me." He faked a very offended tone. James stopped for a second and eyed Sherlock.

"I have a name for you, ligna vulpes." Sherlock raised an eyebrow.

"Latin for fox, not bad." They walked into the room in which the other two marauders were grinning and playing cards. Sherlock shook his head as he watched as they played poker. After a brief greeting, not very sincere as Sirius and Remus were playing in a very intensive way.

"Here give me your cards." Sherlock muttered to Sirius as he took his cards and all his poker chips.

"A plain hello would be fine." Said Sirius. Everyone laughed. Sherlock watched the cards for the first few exchanges and finally smiled tightly.

Then he started to win. Slowly all Remus' chips started coming onto Sherlocks side. And soon Sherlock had all the chips.

"How did you do that?" Asked Remus looking amazed. Sherlock shrugged.

"I memorized the cards."

"You WHAT?" Cried Sirius out. Sherlock once again shrugged.

"Well, its easy, you have to make a story, and each card is a character." There was a stunned silence.

"Oh." Muttered Sirius breaking the silence and everyone laughed.

"Ok, now I suppose we can make a proper hello." And for the next few hours they were telling each other about their summers and what they had been doing. At last they turned to Sherlock.

"So, what is that that got you so happy on the train?" Asked Remus.

"Well, nothing." Seeing their determined faces Sherlock frowned.

"I suppose you won't budge until I tell you."

"Well, no." Said Sirius grinning like an idiot.

"Ok, I won't tell you. Sometime though."

"When?" Potter and Remus asked at the same time.

"How about this year, at Christmas as your present?"

A long silence followed the offer as everyone contemplated it. Suddenly they were all nodding.

"All right but you _have _to tell us at Christmas, and no excuses." Sherlock nodded and put his hands up in a defensive gesture.

"Ok, ok."

But at that very moment Sherlock heard the call for lunch and he stood up buttoning his suit up again.

Sherlock had discovered Remus had found out about the whole project and as they had predicted before he got really mad and tried to stop them but thei code held the group together and in less than five minutes everything was cool again.

Sherlocks nickname was announced to the group after he made a quick transformation and suddenly the name was announced. The Marauders. They had agreed on that after quite a bit of arguing and shouting.

It was only a week later when they went to Diagon Alley. Everyone needed new stuff, though Sherlock was the only one that needed new robes as he had grown taller and it was obvious he was going to be a tall boy.

After a quick run through all the shops they all went to the leaky cauldron where Sherlock looked suspiciously at the greasy and rotten wooden table. ordered a quick lunch in which no one said much due to the hunger they all had.

Exactly one week later they left for Hogwarts.

As Sherlock slumped down in the seat he sighed deeply.

"My brother is not at Hogwarts this year." Sherlock muttered to no one in particular.

"Yes and?" Muttered Sirius from the corner. Sherlock shrugged.

"He wont intercept my letters that people send me."

"Your family will never cease to surprise me, Vulpes." Sherlock shrugged as he heard the comment come from Lupin who was cuddled in his own cloak. Somehow the others had bought cloaks similar to Sherlock's and now they all wore the same kind, though the others didn't have the scarf, that was a signature look of Sherlock Holmes.

"So, Sherlock I didn't have the guts to ask you before but where did you get that scar on your cheekbone?" Asked James. The other two boys turned to Sherlock, they had all been hoping that one off them would bring that topic up. Sherlock winced.

"It was over the summer, I was playing polo with some muggle lords and a prince after I did something rather nice to them and I saved my brother, anyway, we were playing polo and one of them hit me with a whip in the face." Everyone winced and Sherlock rolled his eyes.

"You are such _idiots! _Of course I wasn't playing polo! I got this from a sword cut! While fighting a rather mad circus person." Sherlock forced himself not to smirk. His friends raised eyebrows.

"Cool." Muttered Remus. Sherlock once more rolled his eyes.

"Its curious how people believe you after you lie the first time, usually they just assume you are now telling the truth when you speak he second time, that was a lie as well, oh and I was seduced."

"That's a lie as well isn't it?" Cried Sirius exasperated. Sherlock shrugged.

"I am glad you are catching up, and I was actually cut with a piece of metal from a ripped of car door, I was in a car accident." He said, this time truthful. "And that is the truth." His friends watched him suspiciously, not knowing whether to believe him or not.

At that moment a small girl knocked on the compartment door. She was cute with bond silky hair and gorgeous blue eyes. She smiled kindly and perhaps a bit nervously.

"Can I sit here?" Sherlock glanced at Sirius and he could see his mouth watering with lust. Sherlock rolled his eyes at his friend.

"No, of course not, get out." He said sharply. At first the girl looked surprised then annoyed and lastly angry, she ran down to one compartment. She slammed the door behind her.

"Why did you do that?" Cried Sirius with an exasperated tone. Sherlock shrugged.

"It was a dare, and she was going to get very annoying, trust me if you let a person like that become your 'friend' then they just stick to you and when it is good for them and they can use us they will." Sherlock finished and turned to look out the window making the conversation final.

...

As the months passed the now so called Marauders were becoming more and more known by the day. Some people didin't even know them by name, they just knew them as Moony, Prongs, Padfoot and Vulpes.

They became better at their animagus forms and soon they could change completely without any side effects. They still got lost, sometimes. And they kept telling Sherlock for some reason.

"Shut the bloody hell up about getting lost!" Sherlock cried as they sat one time after dinner by the fire. The others suddenly looked slightly scared.

"Ok!Ok! Sorry!" Cried Sirius back.

"Just make a bloody map!" And that was how the map idea was born. After several weeks of experimenting they made four old parchments which looked normal in everyday life. With a couple of spells they made it only appear when a sentence was muttered and disappear when another was said.

It was quickly nearing Christmas and Sherlock received a letter.

He was sitting in his usual place in the common room when he heard the tap on the window of an owl. Sherlock glanced about, there weren't many people about an anyway the owl was looking his way.

Sherlock walked to the window and let the freezing owl in then slipped the tight, tight scroll off his foot. Sherlock's eyes widened as he read the letter.

It follows thus:

_Dear Mr Sherlock Holmes,_  
_I have been told you are the best detective_  
_that has ever lived, whether private or consulting,_  
_the latter which I am not so sure what it is. _  
_I wish to address you with a very delicate_  
_situation. I am sure you will accept this case_  
_So I have taken the liberty to send you an _  
_escort to my manor._

_Thank you very much,_  
_I will stay unknown until we meet._

Sherlock frowned as he sank back into 'his' armchair. Putting his hands together as if in prayer Sherlock placed the fingertips to his lips. This had been slightly random. Well, slightly, most probably, 'very' random.

He heard the portrait open and three pairs of footsteps coming in. They halted around Sherlock and sank into the armchairs around.

"What's that?" Sirius asked curious as ever.

"Nothing." Murmured Sherlock. The others exchanged glances. They knew when their friend was in that position and staring into the fire like that he was thinking. "Oh and I'm leaving tomorrow." There was a stunned silence.

"Leaving where?" Asked Remus raising both eyebrows.

"I need to go, Ill come back a few days later."

"Its almost holidays! Cant you just wait until then?" Asked James. Sherlock turned to them all in turn.

"This is to do with what I am to tell you on Christmas day." With that he stood up, spun on his heel and disappeared out of the common room. Sherlock was seen carrying a nicely shaped case.

...

It was indeed the next day in Transfiguration when Sherlock left.

They had been having a usual transfiguration lesson and Sherlock was bored out of the usual state of boredom. Dumbledore was explaining something to the class about animagi or something similar and Sherlock as always was not listening, or possibly half listening.

"Mr. Longbottom? Would you mind opening the window?" Longbottom's eyes widened.

"But its snowing."

"I know." Longbottom stood up slightly confused and went to the window then yanked it open. Then suddenly he stood there just staring out the window. Dumbledore hadn't noticed yet he was continuing with the lesson. Sherlock raised an eyebrow in Longbottom's direction. Suddenly Dumbledore noticed that every ones attention had directed (if possible) even more away and they were staring at Lonbottom.

Dumbledore raised an eyebrow.

"What is it Mr. Longbottom?"

"Uh..." He raised an arm and pointed at the sky.

Flying through it was a helicopter.

Dumbledore and Dippet walked out of the school as the helicopter landed in the deep snow. Each wondered how it was that the helicopter could function in snow and in a magic area.

It seemed as if everyone that had access to a window was actually watching out of it at the exchange.

Sherlock watched grimly as a man walked out of the helicopter and said something to the two. There was quite a big argument where Dippet threw his hands in the air in frustration while the man and Dumbledore watched calmly.

Suddenly Dumbledore was walking back to the school. James turned to Sherlock.

"What do you think they are saying?" The other marauders turned to their conversation.

"I think they are here for me." His tone made it final.

Suddenly Dumbledore came into the room. He jerked his finger at Sherlock as if he was trying to contain his anger but it wasn't functioning.

"Mr. Holmes come with me." No one had seen him that angry yet. Shrugging Sherlock followed him. As they walked outside they walked in silence and Sherlock could feel the anger radiating from Dumbledore.

They reached the helicopter and Sherlock took one glance at the man.

"Good morning Mr. Smith." The two headmasters turned to them with enquiring looks.

"You know this man?" Sherlock shrugged.

"Its easy to see, look his cloak has a name tag, along with a number meaning he works in an organization." Sherlock spoke as if the man was not real and everyone just stared at him.

"Very well, I am convinced this is . Now would you step in here?" Sherlock raised an eyebrow. The man bowed stiffly as he opened the door of the helicopter. "Lord Holmes." Said acknowledging Sherlock as he walked into the helicopter.

Putting the massive headphones on Sherlock saw the door slam shut and he looked at Dumbledore and with his eyes sent him a slight sorry. Dumbledore looked surprised for a second then he nodded once and Sherlock thought he saw the slight trace of a smile lingering on that ancient face.

* * *

**Pfew... so yeah, that was my fourth chapter...**


	5. Chapter 5

Before the Consulting Detective

**Chapter 5**

* * *

They arrived in front of a manor where Sherlock was taken to the front doors. Sherlock had to wait in the sitting room. Soon however a man came in. He was very well dressed. In a long black cloak with gold trimming. He had a small full beard and handsome amber eyes.

"Ah, I see you are here already, would you like some tea?" Sherlock nodded.

"Yes, thank you." A servant scurried out of the room and Sherlock turned his eyes back on the man.

"I am lord Dimpstone." Sherlock nodded and gestured for him to continue. "I have asked you to come here today-"

"I didn't really have a choice."

"-because I need help with a delicate matter-" He was once more interrupted as there was a loud bang on the doors and a body guard or something similar came with another following behind. In their hands they dragged two children each. Sherlock groaned.

"James? What the hell?" Dimpstone raised an eyebrow.

"You know these people?" Sherlock frowned and nodded.

"Very well, let them stay, Godfrey, Billson leave." Sherlock watched the doors until they closed then turned back to lord Dimpston.

"So, will you tell me the problem?" Dimpstone looked unsure at the marauders who were now standing up and rubbing various body parts.

"It is all right I have hidden the truth from them for long enough." Sherlock said half glancing at his friends.

"Very well." The marauders still had no idea what was happening their eyes fell on Sherlock and they started poking each other with widened eyes and then looking at Sherlock who was ignoring him.

It was only when they sat in one of the sofas next to Sherlock when the lord began.

"I am very ashamed to say I am scared." His voice suddenly wavered. "The problem is that of a serial killer." The marauders were very confused now they glanced at Sherlock who's eyes had brightened and were shining like that day on the train. "He has been terrorizing the village some miles down the road and he is never seen. He kills at night and every time the victim is discovered with their body mutilated and in blood there is always a message written on the wall-" Before he could continue Sherlock stopped him.

"And do you have a collection of these... messages." The man nodded and from his inside pocket of his suit he provided an envelope. Sherlock opened it and flicked through the various black and white photographs. The marauders were now looking even more confused.

"I think your friends want an explanation." Sherlock nodded once admitting the fact.

"I am a consulting detective." With that he turned to the lord once more.

"Ill take the case." The man looked surprised then a little cautious.

"They told me you were good but... I didn't know you were so young. Are you up to it?" Sherlock shrugged.

"I've seen worse. Lord Dimpstone, much worse."

...

An hour later the Marauders were walking down that village a few miles from the manor. There were many wizards there but many muggles. There was a small school with no more than five children in it.

As they walked Sherlock saw his friends shooting him glances and having those nervous shivers when one wants to say or ask something but can't.

"Ok, spit it out." James shrugged and stopped walking. The other two as well and finally Sherlock.

"Consulting detective?" Sherlock shrugged.

"Yes, its a job I invented and I am the only one in the world that has it. So, when the aurors or the muggle police are out of their depth they ask me and I almost always solve their cases. Then there are times when I work as a private detective for royals or lords. For example this is something like a private detective sort of case." The others listened at him with widened eyes. Sherlock shrugged. "What?"

"You're a detective!" Exclaimed Sirius.

"Now that I think back you were always that observation freak and smart ass." Remus said. Everyone chuckled but Sherlock.

"Very funny, no I am a sociopath." Seeing their confused expressions he elaborated. "A sociopath is someone too smart for their own good. We get bored the whole time unless we have something with to distract us-"

"Thats what happened on the train! You got a case to work on!" Said James. Sherlock rolled his eyes.

"Yes, Prongs, for once you are right." And off he went as usual having the last word. With a few steps of his long legs he reached the only inn in the village while the others had to jog to keep up.

...

The next morning Sherlock woke up early like always when he had an ongoing case and left his quarters in the inn. He had gotten two rooms, one for himself and one for his friends. He jogged downstairs and found it was so early breakfast wasn't even served yet.

Sherlock walked out of the inn and off to the street only to find a beggar standing in front of the door, hands outstretched begging for money. With a swing of his arm he took the man by the front of the shirt and pulled him up to a standing position. The beggars eyes widened with fright.

"Please, sir, please, let me be!" Sherlock frowned.

"Don't scream or you'll wake up the whole street, now tell me what do you know of these incidents, I'll give you ten pounds for information." The man nodded and Sherlock released him.

"They tell me its all scar' stuff. Therese a ma' that says he knows much 'bout this." Sherlock raised an eyebrow.

"Really and who is this man?"

"His names is Dan Gordo' he go in the pub down the street." Sherlock nodded.

"Tell me where all the victims died." Sherlock thought for a second. "Actually show me." After a thorough tour through the village and in which houses had the victims died Sherlock returned to the inn to find his friends were already having lunch.

Sherlock sat down with them and rubbed his hands together.

"Where have _you _been?" Asked James with a slight accusing tone. Sherlock shrugged.

"I had to see where the victims died."

"Ah." Sirius seemed to try and be the philosophical one as his eyes followed a beautiful woman. Sherlock rolled his eyes.

"Don't try to be smart Padfoot, it looks stupid."

"Aren't you going to eat anything, Vulpes?" Remus tried to butt in before they could get into an argument about stupidity. Sherlock shook his head.

"I can't eat while I'm on a case." Sherlock rubbed his temples with his long fingers.

"So do you have any ideas?" Asked James. Sherlock nodded.

"Four."

"FOUR!" Exclaimed Sirius.

"I can't even get one!"

"That's because you're an idiot." Sirius frowned. Sherlock put the collar of his cloak up. James frowned.

"Don't do that?"

"Do what?"

"That, the face, the cloak, you make it look as if you're all so mysterious." Sherlock frowned as well.

"I don't do that." He said pulling his cloak around him a little tighter and the others had to admit he _did _look more intimidating. Sherlock frowned at their reactions as they moved back a little.

"Those messages are a riddle, we only have to work it out-"

"You mean you." Sherlock ignored Sirius and continued.

"-and we have the killer. I searched the places where the victims died while you were here bathing in salts, yes I know you have been bathing all morning." He ignored their surprised looks. "So, as I was saying, all of them have been killed in the same way, so this man, yes it is a man, no woman could have fingers like his, anyway, this man, he likes pattern. I've made a plan on a map, he's making the murders in a circle. He's made the first circle of murders already, all of them were almost on the outskirts of the village so now he's going more to the inside and gradually he'll come to the house in the middle - the mayors house." He took a breath. "So, of course he's got a grudge against the mayor, perhaps because the mayor has a daughter and he was with her but the mayor forbid it so viola, who is the murderer? The boy, or man that was dating the girl." A long silence came upon the group who just stared at the young socio-path.

"Amazing." Breathed Remus.

"Do you do that with other people when were not there when you are showing off like that?" Sherlock frowned at James.

"No, actually at home, I talk to my skull." Sirius looked offended.

"So we are substitutes to a skull?" Sirius muttered causing the others to laugh. Sherlock rolled his eyes.

"Come on finish up, we've got a house to break into."

...

Just a couple of hours later they were sitting in the living room in an apartment almost in the middle of the village. Just moments after they had eaten Sherlock took them to the mayors house and had an interview with the mayors daughter and got the address where the boyfriend lived.

And now Sherlock was anxiously pacing back and fourth while his friends were sitting on the moth eaten sofa and chatting about school. If one would come in that moment it would have looked quite peculiar. Three boys chatting about school and the fourth with a fake gun in his hand and a wand in his cloak pocket.

Seconds after Sherlock had prepared the gun to look more like a real one there was a turn in the lock. Instantly the boys stopped talking and Sherlock stopped pacing.

And then the man came into the room. In flesh and bone just as Sherlock had promised.

He looked about 20 years old, but his face was worn with the many murders he had done. His hair was a chestnut brown mixed with a muddy grey. He was thin and small but in a way handsome but the devil had already consumed him so instead he was handsomely evil.

The man turned to Sherlock and froze.

"Oh, don't worry come in." Said Sherlock using his coldest voice yet, he raised the gun in the progress. The man backed away to the door he had just closed. Sherlock flicked his wand and said a simple spell to lock the door.

The man pulled out his own wand.

"Who are you?" He snarled. Sherlock frowned.

"Sit down or I promise I'll blast you to pieces." The man pointed his wand to the door and was about to mutter a spell when...

"Petrificus Totalus." Sherlock cried at the man. And with a thump he fell down on the floor. Sherlock walked to him and un-petrified his mouth so the man could speak.

"You are the one aren't you? You want to kill the mayor for revenge don't you?" Sherlock said his eyes glowing.

"Yes." Said the man feebly as Sherlock pinned him against the floor.

* * *

**Ok, so this chapter was a little shorter...**


	6. Chapter 6

Before the Consulting Detective

**Chapter 6**

* * *

After taking the man to the local police Sherlock was once more invited to the lords house for dinner with his friends.

"Two days! Two! They told me you were good! But." He chuckled. "You are better than good!" Sherlock frowned as he finished his meal.

"I didn't do it all myself-"

"Oh, come on Vulpes. You know you did everything yourself!" Sherlock frowned at James who smiled at him brightly. Sherlock rolled his eyes. Lord Dimpstone grinned.

"I will transfer the money onto your account." Sherlock nodded.

"Very well, I have already told you, I do not usually take money, and this was a relatively easy case but if you insist..." Dimpstone smiled.

"You are a very funny young lad." The marauders snorted and the lord looked at them oddly. Sherlock raised an eyebrow. The lord suddenly stood up as he saw everyone was finished with food.

"Shall we go to the sitting room?"

It was two days later when the marauders were going back to the castle, Hogwarts. They arrived by port key in the great hall and were to report to the headmasters which Sherlock ignored and sent his friends to report for him. As Sherlock was about to walk to the stairs there was a big commotion in the great hall. At that moment he saw his friends running down the stairs.

Sherlock raised an eyebrow.

"I take it he wasn't there." They shook their heads and Sherlock raised an eyebrow. "Was the room tidy?"

"There weren't any things there, it looked as if someone was moving out." Sherlock smiled tightly and in a grim way.

"That's what all of this is about. Headmaster Dippet is dead." He declared to his friends.

...

That was in fact true, the day after they had gone Dippet had died of old age and Dumbledore had taken his place and McGonogall had taken Dumbledores as deputy headmistress and the post as the transfiguration teacher.

Sherlock and his friends were currently back in the common room in their armchairs. Apparently there had been a burial which they had missed and now Sherlock was slightly worried that Dumbledore was the headmaster because he would watch his movements carefully, he now knew Sherlock was a detective.

...

"And lastly, put that finger there." Said the headmaster of Hogwarts. Sherlock did so and looked up at his music tutor.

"Is that all right?"

"Perfect. Now play the piece." Sherlock did the piece without any emotion at all and suddenly it sounded all wistful and empty. He frowned up at Dumbledore and let the violin drop to his side.

"How- Why?" Dumbledore shook his head.

"You aren't putting any emotion into it." Sherlock frowned.

"I'm not good with emotion." He hung his head. Dumbledore put a hand on Sherlocks shoulder.

"But I am." Sherlock turned his head to look up at Dumbledore who was smiling sadly at him now. "Sherlock, what do you like most of all in the world?" Sherlock shrugged.

"Cases, entertainment. I hate Mycroft and boredom." Dumbledore raised his eyebrows.

"You hate your brother?"

"Yes."

"With passion?" Sherlock thought for a second. "Yes, with passion."

"Very well." Said Dumbledore, his eyes shining. "Think of him as you play and... I've got a new piece for you." He put a piece of paper on the stand and Sherlock quickly analysed it and raised his eyebrows.

"Beethoven, sonata number 5?" He questioned. Dumbledore nodded, eyes shinier than ever. Sherlock took a deep breath and started to play.

This time instead of playing the notes, the code as he called it, he played the emotion that was slowly creeping through his 'empty' heart.

And then suddenly he had finished the end of the dramatic piece. He stared at the last note for a second, contemplating what he had done.

Looking up at Dumbledore Sherlock saw the pride in those eyes and he almost smiled to himself. Almost.

"That was better, much better." Dumbledore stretched. "I think were done for the night. Practice your pieces and put some emotion to it, don't think of your brother al the time because I noticed the piece was rather angry, but yes practice, practice and practice. Good night." That was an obvious good bye and Sherlock found himself going back to his common room.

He needed to think, as usual. But this time, he was _desperate. _Slowly he climbed up the moving staircases, carefully avoiding the bad steps. He walked through the seventh floor corridor, the one that led to the Gryffindor house, then suddenly stopped.

Slowly his head turned to the right only to see two big, oak double doors. He frowned and slowly walked to them. He cocked his head to the side and rose an eyebrow, then he pushed them open.

The second they opened he gasped. He was staring at a very big room filled with basically... junk. There were huge piles of chairs, books, brooms. It seemed as if the room held all the things that one threw away or tried to hide.

He gazed about and found an armchair. He almost smiled. Just the perfect place to think.

As he walked to the armchair, a tea table caught his eye. He turned his head to the left to see a long thin package placed on it. Dust surrounded it. Slowly Sherlock picked it up and blew the dust off then coughed. The noise echoed through the whole room. Slowly he opened the box.

And he gasped.

He had never seen such a beautiful thing (apart from his violin of course). It was a wand. A long wooden stick. The whole wand was engraved with different designs and runes. Ancient runes. Sherlock slowly picked it up and suddenly felt power radiate through his body. A soft, warm, golden glow surrounded him.

He grinned and suddenly he didn't have to think about those things Dumbledore had told him.

He pulled his first wand out of his pocket and waved it at his new wand. A simple spell to find out what was inside. What happened next was amazing. The information appeared above him in bright blue letters.

_Wand made: 1500 BC_

_Core: Nemean Lion  
_

_Made and used By: Herakles(Hercules)  
_

_Type of wood:Olive Tree  
_

__Sherlock stared at the writing until it disappeared. Then he looked down at his chicken feathered wand and he snapped it, then with one good throw, the pieces flew into the junk.

He caressed the wand and with one quick spin he was gone.

...

Sherlock gazed into the fire with his now dull eyes. His friends had noticed the difference as soon as the case was solved. His eyes had dulled and his shoulders seemed to have slumped down.

Sherlock in fact felt dreadful.

Sherlock could feel his fingers moving to the position of a violin and the thought came to him. He stood up and reached for the violin then went up to his dorm. No one was in the room and Sherlock opened the leather case and pulled the violin out. He moved to the window and gazing out to the frozen lake Sherlock started to play.

As he played he thought of his mother and father. As he played he wished they were alive and well, fit and happy, not dying or dead.

He played for his parents and the melody was sad and lonely.

As he played he didn't notice his friends appear at the door and close it behind them. They stared at the passion he held in his heart behind the mask of coldness he always wore.

As the tune finished Sherlock let the bow and the violin fall at his side. Sherlock continued to gaze out the window.

"I think I'm having a déjà vu." Sherlock said turning. "I had this exact situation with Evans, just we met in the owlery." Sirius was staring with widened eyes and an open mouth. James was gazing at Sherlock as if he had never seen him, while Remus had raised his eyebrows and was watching with widened eyes.

"I-I-I think I've never heard better music." James muttered. Sherlock nodded his thanks.

"Thank you."

"Who were you playing for?" Asked Remus. "My father was a musician he told me that whenever he played he played for someone or something, so who were you playing for what were you playing for?" Sherlock frowned as he turned away.

"My parents and my family."

...

Three days later it seemed the whole school knew the marauders were back partly because Sirius had stood up on the table and yelled, "we are BACK" one breakfast morning and partly because in the last three days the marauders had done more pranks yet.

At Christmas morning Sherlock woke up by Sirius' loud yelling to wake him up for the presents. Sherlock slowly got out of bed and looked at his watch, it was about seven o'clock. Glaring at Sirius Sherlock put on his morning rob and followed his friends into the common room with his violin.

Somehow everyone in Gryffindor seemed to have gone for the winter holidays and the only ones there were the marauders.

His friends were all there already and each one of them was looking at their presents with hungry expressions. Sherlock rolled his eyes as he came in the common room.

James imitated the expression of torture.

"Oh, come _on _we've been waiting for ages!" Sherlock shrugged and moved to the last armchair on which lay only a small pile of presents.

He looked about and the others seemed to have noticed as well but wisely they said nothing. Sherlock threw a hand through his hair ruffling it in a wilder state than it had been in before.

"Ok, 3, 2, 1, 0!" Yelled Sirius at the top of his lungs and instantly dug into his presents, so did James, then Remus and finally Sherlock.

Sherlock took his first present from the top of the pile. Holding it for a second he deduced it was a Rolex watch from Mycroft. Sherlock neatly took the wrapping off and opened the box.

His friends, who had already finished unwrapping most of their presents turned to look at him. Sherlock rolled his eyes as he took the card.

_Dear little brother,_

_I know you will not want to wear this watch  
as it is from me. But I might as well tell you  
it was our fathers, and he used it when he  
had to go to meetings with muggles-_

Sherlock stopped there disgusted, he didn't want to read any more. With a flick of his wrist he threw the letter into the fire. His friends looked at him with raised eyebrows and Sherlock shrugged when he saw them staring at him.

Sherlock dropped the watch into his pocket, he'd send it back to Mycroft later meanwhile he would open his presents.

The next present was a book, Sherlock was sure. He opened it and found it was from Dumbledore, pieces from Beethoven and Bach grinning tightly and turning away so that his friends couldn't see him Sherlock laid the book to the side.

The last present was from the marauders all put together. With wonder Sherlock unwrapped it and smiled. It was a big Chemical set made specially for wizards who studied muggle science. The cool thing about it was that there seemed to be an expanded bag that contained all the stuff.

"Hey thanks, Lupus!" Said Sirius from the other side of the room. Sherlock nodded distractedly.

"You're welcome." He muttered. It was then when he heard a gasp. Turning Sherlock saw James was no where to be seen. Then... He appeared, his head floating in mid-air. Then he took it off, whatever it was and Sherlock saw it was a cloak. An invisibility cloak in fact. Remus was reading a letter out loud.

"Dear Jamie, (Sirius snickered at the nickname) I hope you have a wonderful Christmas at Hogwarts while we are in Australia in your mothers homeland. Of course this letter is coming from me of course. You probably opened the family letter already but this is a private one from me as I have to present you with the most wonderful present you will get this Christmas and probably in all the Christmases you have before you. This is an invisibility cloak that has been handed down our family for generations. You are not to show it to anyone but your friends as I know it will be inevitable for them to find out.  
Use this cloak for good and do not, ever, let other people find out or I will personally disown you!

Oh, and merry Christmas,

Your father."

"Harsh." Said Sirius from the armchair he was sitting in. The boys shared a good laugh. "Oh but imagine the things we could do with it..." Muttered Sirius with a dreamy expression. Sherlock rolled his eyes.

"Great, were all happy now... can we go have breakfast?" Asked a hungry James who had packed his cloak back into the wrapping paper. Sherlock shook his head.

"The great hall doesn't open until ten." Everyone stared at him. "What? I overheard McGonogall talking about it." And with that he pulled his violin out once more and started playing a happy Christmas tune. And as always, from the moment he had had that conversation with Dumbledore, it was what he felt that he played.

...

Sherlock felt relieved when classes started off again. It wasn't a very good distraction but it was better than anything. It wasn't as though hanging out with the marauders didn't provide enough distraction but sometimes they were too dull.

As he sank in his seat in potions that day he turned to Lily who he found was smiling at him. He turned away and pulled his stuff out of his bag before turning his grey eyes on Slughorn who had just asked a question.

"Mr Holmes?" Sherlock cursed for his bad luck. Beside him he could hear Lily whispering the answer to him. Instead Sherlock lifted his chin to the professor and with all the dignity and courage he could muster he said four clear words.

"I do not know." Sulghorn frowned and looked over at Lily who was the only one with her hand up.

"Warmweed." She said as he gestured for her to tell the class the answer. "Can be the cause for death in which case you can use that antidote." She added. Sherlock once again cursed his bad luck as he had once done a project about Warmweed for his father and it had been a very thorough edition.

As soon as Slughorn turned away Lily turned to Sherlock frowning.

"Why didn't you tell him the answer, you could have gotten points for your house." She whispered. Sherlock shrugged lightly.

"You didn't get any." He pointed out.

"That's not the point. The point is you could have gotten praise from Slughorn." Sherlock frowned and his eyebrows seemed to connect in one line.

"What's the point then? To get praise for something I didn't do? Bah! That's something for idiots who don't have a life." Sherlock turned back to the teacher to hear the instructions for the class. Lily thought he had missed her offended expression. But he didn't. He never missed anything.

At the end of class Sherlock reunited with his friends at the entrance to the charms classroom.

"...That git!" James was saying. "He added powdered beetles into my cauldron!" He cried. Sherlock raised an eyebrow and put on an expression which clearly stated he did not know what that addition could make to the potion. James looked desperately at his friends, looking from one another trying to see whether anyone knew what happened. They all wore similar looks like Sherlock. "Oh, god! Do I always have to explain stuff to you?" Sherlock raised his eyebrows. "Anyway, that can cause an explosion-"

"And that it did." Muttered Remus. They shared a laugh and suddenly all the tension was gone.

Then the door slammed open but Sherlock winked at James and quickly shot a spell at Snape then followed inside the classroom with his friends as if nothing had happened. Serverus Snape was left outside dangling in the air from his heel and no one inside the classroom noticed he was gone.

...

"That was wicked!" Sirius cried when they were back in the common room.

"Yeah, what was that spell you used? You've used it once before haven't you?" Said Remus who was looking wiry because of the nearing full moon. Sherlock shrugged and slumped down in 'his' armchair.

"Well, its called levicorpus. I invented it in one of those lengthy trips to our summer house in Scotland."

"Oh." Said Remus looking thoughtful.

"Did you invent any other prank spells?" Asked James sinking into the armchairs opposite.

"That was what I was about to ask." Said Remus leaning against the wall near the fire place.

"Well, yes. A couple here and there."

Ten minutes later they were all leaning over a journal that had so many spells scratched out and circled that it almost seemed black with everything.

"A couple here and there." Sirius echoed Sherlocks words as they tried to read Sherlocks usually neat and precise handwriting but which was now a horrible scribble.

"Oh come on, it isn't _that _bad." Sherlock muttered and everyone laughed.

"What's that spell?" Asked Remus. "I think I've seen it before. Aguamerti?" Sherlock raised his eyebrows.

"My friend, you are thinking of aguamenti, a spell that causes water to shoot out of your wand. But this is aguamerti. I tweaked the spell a bit, instead now it shoots balls of fire which can turn into blades of water if you think of it in your mind." There was a long silence.

"And that is the power of a single letter-oof" Before he was able to finish the sentence James hit him on the head snorting.

"Quit trying to be smart." They all laughed at the comical scene. James was standing over Sirius who lay on the floor moaning while James' hand was still raised. One could almost imagine the baseball bat in his hand.

Several people in the common room turned to watch James saw this and quickly turned to them and waved his hands in the air signifying peace.

"Its alright! Padfoot here is only going to have a concussion and amnesia." A few chuckles flirted throughout the room and most watchers turned back to their conversations.

Sherlock gazed at his friends for a few moments and finally lifted his chin and raised his eyebrows.

"Why am I even friends with you?" He muttered to them.

* * *

**Ok, so this was a little longer...**


End file.
